Adventures in Babysitting: Angel Edition
by DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee
Summary: Sam and Dean agree to help out Castiel and Gabriel. Little do they expect that 'helping' means babysitting Gabriel's half-angel-half-human kids for an unspecified length of time. Chaos ensues as the Winchester brothers attempt child-care and angels attempt to comprehend humanity.
1. Chapter 1

**Adventures in Babysitting: Angel Edition**

**Prologue: The Fine Art of Delegation**

**Author's Note: So, this is a story set in an AU in which the apocalypse was stopped and Lucifer did get shoved back in the cage, but Gabriel didn't die in the process, Sam didn't get stuck in the cage, and Michael remained at large. Here Michael has taken charge of heaven while Castiel and Gabriel mop things up on earth. In my head-cannon Michael spent some time wandering earth as well pre-almost-apocalypse. Now he has no memory of those years, for reasons that will be explained in later chapters. **

"Heeey, Cassie!" Gabriel's voice was chipper, perky and supremely annoying as he suddenly appeared behind his younger brother.

Castiel (for he _had _a name and wished more people would use it instead of these ridiculous nicknames) turned around to face his elder sibling. "Yes, Gabriel?" he said with a somewhat world-weary sigh. "What do you want?"

Gabriel grinned brightly and clapped him on the shoulder. "I have a quest for you! Loads of fun, really. You wouldn't want to pass up this unique and thrilling opportunity!"

"Gabriel, I have many tasks awaiting my attention on both heaven and earth, I do not have the time for your nonsense," Castiel reminded the elder angel.

"But, Cassie!" Gabriel whined, "It could _fun!" _

Castiel narrowed his eyes at his brother, "NO," he intoned solemnly.

Gabriel remained unfazed in the face of his brother's flat refusal. "I knew you'd see it my way!" he chirped, slinging an arm around the taller angel's shoulders.

Castiel shrugged the arm off, looking affronted. Then again, he seemed to exist in a constant state of slightly ruffled feathers and mild confusion, so Gabriel decided to ignore his little bro's more Vulcan-like attributes. Pasting a wide smile across his face, Gabriel slung his arm back over Castiel's shoulder, ignoring the seraph's attempts at escape.

"See, big brother Mikey just keeps giving me _work_ now that the apocalypse is over and all. And well, I'm just not as into _working _or being _dutiful_ as I used to be. I grew up, matured, grew a pair, whatever you wanna call it, Mikey's being bossy and I'm not taking it."

"How does this pertain to me?" Castiel deadpanned.

"Weeelll, Mikey's given me this _job_ and I want you to do it for me!"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"C'mon Cas…It's so boorrrinnggg. And I don't do boring. Ever. Well, maybe for a bit there around five AD, but that wasn't so bad. Those shepherds were freaking hilarious. All bug-eyed and freaked out." Gabriel helpfully duplicated the shepherds' shocked facial expressions, 'Oh my sweet sandals it's an angel!" he imitated in a squeaky falsetto, breaking into cackles at his own inherent hilarious-ness towards the end.

Finally getting himself under control, Gabriel took a deep breath and made a big show of re-centering himself zen-style. "Man, I'm _hilarious. _Anywho, Cassie. You need to do this job for me like the good little brother I know you are."

Castiel was fed up, "As I believe the Winchesters would say: I am not your bitch, ass-thing."

This sent Gabriel into even greater hysterics. "Ass-thing?"

Castiel furrowed his brows, "I have yet to discover exactly what nouns and or body parts are socially acceptable to pair with 'ass'. It seems to be a rather complicated hierarchy of profanity."

Gabriel raised his eyebrows and nodded mockingly, "Uh-huh, real complicated there, sport."

"I am gratified that you understand my difficulty." Castiel's voice remained serious, his ice-blue eyes earnest.

"Yeah, okay," Gabriel raised an eyebrow at his brother, "So this job. Now don't give me the BAMF bitch-face yet, it could be interesting! Now, it turns out that while Mikey and I were wandering the earth like the holy vagabonds we are we may have sowed a few too many wild oats if you catch my meaning." He winked suggestively at Castiel.

"I do not," Castiel informed him, "What exactly were you and Michael sowing? And what makes the oats wild? Isn't oat a generally domesticated grain in today's society?"

Gabriel made an exaggerated show of pinching the bridge of his nose to stem the rush of the oncoming stress-headache the longer he spent with Castiel. "We have _kids, _Castiel. Me and Michael apparently have a few things in common. One of which is a deep admiration for sexy human ladies. Well, Mikey found out that apparently a few of my _liaisons,_" the last word was said with heavy innuendo and an overdone French accent, both of which sailed right over Castiel's head. Gabriel gave up joking with Castiel as a lost cause and carried on, "Produced some half-breed offspring. He told me that I needed to round up the ones whose powers weren't dormant or who are likely to become unstable and take care of them. So, I started, and most of my kiddies have nice, normal picket-fence lives. Pretty boring, actually. Anywho, turns out Mikey had a little monster of his own while he was slumming on earth before Team Apocalypse shook everything up. She's fourteen now and needs some heavenly guidance. So does one of my ankle-biters. Your new and exciting job, Cassie, is to find them and babysit them until Michael can round up some low-rank guardian angels for them!

"Got it? Good, cuz the World's Largest Chocolate Fountain is calling my name!" And with that, Gabriel was gone.

"Damn you, ass-head," Castiel muttered at the empty air once occupied by his brother, pausing, considering the profanity he just produced, Castiel shook his head, "No, that's not quite right either. There are dickheads, but I don't think there are ass-heads… I should consult with Dean. He seems familiar with human profanity." Of course, he wouldn't be able to check up on his human friend until he had at least rounded up Gabriel's 'job'.

Sighing, thinking of all the work he still had to do, Castiel winked out of existence, already soaring to a new location.

…

When he saw Cas standing on the front step, Sam knew he shouldn't have answered the door. But realizing that if he slammed it in the angel's face the angel would just teleport into the living room anyway, Sam reluctantly held it open and invited him in.

Castiel nodded, but did not move. "I have a job for you," he intoned.

Sam began to oh-so-subtly back away.

"I was informed that it could be fun," Castiel offered.

"Uh huh, and what exactly is this job?" Sam's voice was wary.

"Babysitting."

"Babysitting what?"

"Gabriel and Michael's bastard children." The matter-of-fact way that Cas said those few words somehow made everything worse.

Sam groaned and ran his hand down his face, "No, Cas. We have jobs to work and evil to fight-"

"You are not currently hunting," Castiel observed. "You are 'crashing' as you would phrase it, at Bobby Singer's house. You have plenty of spare time."

"No, we don't." Sam returned to backing up, as if he could escape the solemn, glacial gaze of the trenchcoat-wearing angel.

"It is a heavenly mission, Sam."

"Sorry, buddy, we don't do heavenly missions. They typically end up with us as meatsuits or dead, so we're gonna play it safe and take a raincheck on this one." Dean's voice echoed down the hall as he meandered over to where Sam was attempting to slink away from the front door.

"Hello Dean," Cas greeted.

"Hey Cas, and it's still a no on heavenly missions."

Cas's eyes narrowed, his brow furrowed and he stared at the brothers intensely, looking very much like a small, offended cat. After a long moment of bestowing his silent, reproachful stare on the duo, he intoned, voice as grim and serious as ever, "My brothers are ass-things who can't do their jobs. I can't do their work and my work so I'm delegating the task to you. Understand?"

Dean snickered, focusing, as usual, on the profanity first and the sentence's actual meaning second, "What did you call your brothers?"

If possible, Castiel furrowed his brow even more, "You mock me whenever I attempt to combine 'ass' with an appropriate noun, I thought 'thing' was an adequate compromise until I learn the finer arts of profanity."

Dean just kept laughing. Sam punched him in the arm. This seemed to only further inflame Dean's hysteria. Heaving a long-suffering sigh, Sam turned his attention back to their angelic visitor. "Fine, Cas, we'll help. But not permanently."

"Of course it would not be permanently. Your charges would far outlive you, despite your apparent inability to die without swift resurrection."

"Charges?" Dean looked perplexed, "What is he talking about?"

"Our heavenly mission," Sam deadpanned.

"Wait, no, dude, we said no. No heavenly missions. I did not sign up for angel scouts!"

Cas simply gave Dean a very expressive, exasperated, _look_ before winking out of existence.

"Freaking angels," Dean summed up the conversation, "So, what was all that about?"

"Apparently we're babysitting Gabriel and Michaels' unintended offspring."

"WHAT?!" Dean squawked, "What the freaking-?"

He did not have time to finish the sentence, or the thought, because Cas had reappeared in front of them, a child on each side. One was a girl who looked to be about fourteen with reddish blonde hair and suspiciously narrowed blue eyes. The second was a boy around eight years old with short, unruly dark brown hair and sharp green eyes. On the surface they looked fairly normal, with only one significant difference. And it was a _significant _difference. Each child had, folded neatly behind their shoulders, a pair of wings. Not feathery and bird-like per se, they looked like bird-wings but didn't have realistic element. Instead they were more shadowy, like they were woven out of light and darkness rather than flesh and bone. All and all, pretty damn distracting and _really _not human.

"These are you charges," Cas began introductions, "The girl is Cynthia Matthews, daughter of the archangel Michael. The boy is Timothy Ryan, son of the archangel Gabriel. Treat them well and try not to destroy anything too significant," Castiel had just barely finished his instructions when he disappeared in a flap of angel-wings.

"So, uh, hi," Sam offered in an attempt to defy the growing heavy silence.

Several quiet moments passed before anyone spoke. And this time it was Dean, "CAS ARE YOU FRIGGING KIDDING ME?!" he bellowed, "BABYSITTING? ANGELS? _REALLY?_"

Sam sighed at his brother's dramatics. Turning to the kids as Dean continued to rant about how babysitting was a job for twelve-year-old girls, Sam gave a wry smile. "Hi, my name's Sam Winchester. That's my brother Dean. This is going to be a very interesting few weeks isn't it?"

**Author's Note: So here ends the prologue! Sorry the OCs barely did anything. I promise the next chapters will focus on them! This story is meant to be funny, and hopefully now that the prologue is out of the way, more funny stuff can happen. **

**PLEASE REVIEW! I love hearing from people, especially when I start a new fic, and this is one of my first supernatural fics that isn't a crossover with something else, so feedback is hugely appreciated. **

**See you next chapter!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 1: How to Get Thrown Out of a Mall in 5 Minutes or Less, PART ONE**

Sirens were wailing, in-case-of-fire sprinkler systems spraying streams of water on panicking pedestrians. People were screaming and running and occasionally stopping to snap a photo or two in order to give their Instagram followers the exclusive opportunity to panic with them. Chaos reigned, Sam Winchester had gum in his hair, Dean looked about ready to snap and punch the next person who talked to him, Timothy looked like he was about to pass out from culture-shock and Cynthia was laughing her ass off.

As of right now, no one had shown wings, teleported, glowed with angelic inner light or fired a gun.

They had been in the mall five minutes.

Sam and Dean's New Years' resolutions this year were going to sound a bit like this:

1.) Don't die.

2.) Don't get stuck in Hell, Purgatory, Heaven or all of the above.

3.) Don't ever, ever, EVER listen when an angel tells you to do ANYTHING. Even Cas. After today, that little trenchcoat wearing bastard is _off _the trustworthy list.

4.) And never enter a mall ever again. They are full of strange and frightening creatures. And those are just the humans.

Fun for everyone, right?

It had all started normally enough… Sam was still wondering what exactly had gone wrong in his life that he was now dashing through a mall full of panicking shoppers with his brother and two half-angels in tow. But then again, this was _his _life.

* * *

_**24 hours previously…**_

"Hi, my name is Sam Winchester, that's my brother Dean. It's going to be an interesting few weeks, isn't it?"

There was an awkward moment as Dean slowly realized that he was the only one speaking, began to feel really awkward for ranting so much and gradually shut up. Finally it was just two Winchesters and two half-angels staring at each other from across a front doorstep.

They might have stood like that all night, not sure what exactly to do if Bobby's junker hadn't pulled into the drive at that exact moment. The scrapyard owner leaned out of his driver's side window and yelled at the men standing on the porch, "You idjits had better not have screwed up the universe while I was gone! I just got married, I don't wanna have to clean up your messes for at least another year."

In the shotgun seat, Ellen laughed, "Hi boys, miss us?"

The littlest of Sam and Dean's… charges as Cas had said, looked up at the Winchesters, his eyes huge and slightly frightened in his small face, "Who are they?" he asked.

"That's Bobby, that's Ellen," Dean informed him gruffly.

The kid nodded solemnly. Dean began to wonder if the boy ever smiled. Or even had facial expressions beyond the single one he had managed to display thus far. It was getting harder and harder to believe that this was _Gabriel's _kid.

"Okay, so what, we're hanging out here with Captain Plaid, Gigantor, and those two until when, exactly?" the girl asked, raising an eyebrow.

Bobby, who had just dropped out of the driver's seat, glanced over his shoulder, "Who're the kids? They'd better not be another problem. We've got enough with this job as is."

The boy, Timothy, twitched and looked at his shoes, intense feelings of guilt and shame at the thought that he was a _problem _rolling off of his small frame. Dean could feel his stomach drop to the bottom of his shoes, all the times he had ever felt the slightest shred of guilt slamming back into his mind all at once. Wincing, shaking his head, trying to dislodge the foreign emotions, he pushed against the angelic psychic pressure building around them, "Tone it down, kid!"

Timothy intensified his shoe-scrutiny, waves of shame pouring from him.

Sam was grimacing, the heels of his hands pressed to his eye sockets as he tried to keep the emotions forced on him by the tiny half-angel at bay. Cynthia, the girl standing beside the boy, finally gasped out a sigh and took the easy way out. She smacked Timothy upside the head with a wing.

"Cut it out," she hissed.

He blinked and looked up at her, the dark cloud of oppressive guilt receding slightly from the minds of the humans around him. Sam, grunted and straightened up, "Wow, kid, you, uh, pack a punch."

"That is why I tend to refrain from emotional displays."

"Uh-huh, yeah, _repression, _great idea there, Timmy," Dean groaned.

"Timmy? Who is _Timmy?" _the newly-nicknamed boy asked.

"You, dummy," Cynthia raised an eyebrow at him.

Timmy's face fell once again. Sam rushed to reassure him, "You're not a dummy. I'm sure- ah, pretty sure at least, that she didn't mean it."

Bobby, who had wandered over, sighed. "What have you idjits gotten into _now? _Don't tell me Dean knocked up an angel and got angel-babies left on his doorstep."

Dean spluttered, "NO!"

"There was that Anna chick," Sam reminded him.

"I DO NOT HAVE ANGEL BABIES!" Dean roared.

Timmy and Cynthia heaved twin sighs of exasperation.

"I think we get your point, boy," Ellen reminded Dean.

"Yep, no 'angel babies' for Dean," Sam was laughing his ass off. Dean thought his brother was being an annoying little bitch. The rest of his family was too busy laughing at him to agree.

Cynthia yawned, "We're Gabriel and Michael's kids. Some guy named Cassie-, Cassano-, Ca-, urgh, Trenchcoat-Dude, dumped us on Short-and-Scruffy and Sasquatch here. Now, can you either show us the food, the shower or the couch? Living in subway tunnels being hunted by demons sucks and is hell on the personal hygiene."

Ellen clucked at them in a motherly no-nonsense way, hustling the duo into the house, past a perplexed pair of Winchester brothers, already setting about getting the new guests settled in. Bobby shot his two foster-sons a glance.

"These kids aren't of the temporary variety, are they?"

"Cas wasn't all that clear on that," Sam admitted.

"Huh." Bobby scratched at his stubble thoughtfully. "You're taking them to the mall tomorrow."

When the boys started to protest, Bobby cut them off. "I just got married, I want some time with my wife, and these angel-lets are your responsibility. You're feeding, watering and taking care of them. That includes buying them new clothes, cuz they obviously didn't come with checked bags. Didn't you two ever have a pet when you were little?"

Sam went to answer, but Bobby smacked him on the head with his baseball cap before the man could get a syllable out. "It was rhetorical, idjit. Take care of your 'angel-babies'." He wandered into the house, asking Ellen what was for dinner, ignoring the Winchesters' protestations that the kids were not _their _'angel babies'.

"Hurry up!" Cynthia banged on the bathroom door once before stalking away.

"What's the rush?" Dean shouted through the wood barrier.

"It's the _mall_. Don't you known anything, Freckled-and-Brooding?"

"Stop calling me names and I might know a little more and feel the need to punch you a little less."

Cynthia laughed, her wings pushing against the spells she had wrapped around them to hide their large, feathery appearance from human eyes. "That's the spirit, Deanny-Boy."

"Are you _sure _you're not Gabriel's kid?" Sam asked, glancing at her from where he stood at the kitchen sink, cleaning the breakfast dishes.

"Yeppers," she grinned, "Timmy's just emotionally stunted. He was stuck in foster care with this strict, uber-religious family at a young age. Super-emotional kid surrounded by Bible-thumpers telling him he should be ashamed all the time, plus the wings and super-powers? We're lucky he's just repressed, not permanently traumatized."

"What're you saying about me?" The boy in question stood in the living room, rubbing his eyes, wild bed-head curling all around his face.

Cynthia sighed, "You're worse thanAngry-Green-Eyed-Midget. You haven't even had breakfast yet. We are _so _getting trampled by mall traffic."

"I'M NOT SHORT!" Dean yelled from the bathroom, bellowing over the sound of the shower running.

"YOU KEEP TELLING YOURSELF THAT!" Cynthia shouted back.

"SHUT UP, YA IDJITS, NORMAL PEOPLE ARE SLEEPING!" Bobby's voice, followed by Ellen's grumpy, agreeing grumble silenced the younger members of the household.

"What were you saying about me, Sin?" Timmy asked, voice soft and even, with a hint of nervousness trailing off at the end, sending furious butterflies fluttering their way into everyone else's stomachs.

"Shh, shh," Cynthia reassured him, "Don't get nervous, you're making all of us ansty, and you know how dangerous giants are when armed with," she flicked a glance at Sam, "…soapy sponges," she finished lamely, mouth turning up as she twisted it into a joke, "Sponges, very dangerous, and _soap, _well, quite the hazard there."

Timmy giggled a bit, freeing everyone from the grip of his magical emotional overflow and giving the entire household a cheery glow.

"Now, come on, get dressed and I'll comb your hair, it looks like something's living in there. And don't forget to hide your wings."

"Okay, Sin," Timothy gave her a tiny, sweet, timid smile before trotting off to change.

As soon as he was out of the room, Sam turned back to the girl, "Okay, I've gotta ask, the daughter of an angel nick-named… _Sin_?"

She shrugged, grinning a bit, "Short for Cynthia, duh. And, you know, a rebellious phase. Everyone's got one. Mine's just a bit more… lifelong, I guess."

"Yeah," Sam said in ironic agreement. "Well, I hear wings are just the thing to shock the fashion world these days."

Sin laughed, "Yep. Now leave that frying pan out, I'm making chocolate chip pancakes."

Just as Sam was handing the cooking ingredients over to the teen, Dean burst out of that bathroom, "Okay, I'm dressed, quit your whining, let's get to this mall so I can be back in time for the new episode of _Doctor Sexy, M.D._"

"Nope." Sin said from the kitchen.

"Wait, what?" Dean glowered at her, "You were just-"

Sin shrugged, "I forgot Timmy wasn't ready yet. Now sit, I'm making pancakes."

Dean and Sam exchanged a look. Women. Weird, no matter what species or gender.

Eventually Timmy re-entered the kitchen in time to receive a plateful of steaming chocolate chip pancakes smothered in syrup, whipped cream and strawberry jelly.

Watching him down that disgustingly sugary teeth-rotter of a breakfast was enough to prompt a cringe from even Dean.

"Yeah, okay, I buy that he's Gabriel's kid now," Dean sounded vaguely disgusted.

"You think?" Sam deadpanned back at him.

Sin and Timmy just grinned.

Sam rubbed his face with both hands. He could just _sense _that this was going to be rough day.

**Author's Note: Hi there! Sorry for the slow update, I've been busy and distracted... I'm really tired right now, so sorry if this chapter sucks/makes no sense. So, here we are, the kids settling in. Timmy and Sin will both develop further as this tale develops. Timmy will not always be this fragile, he's got a hidden mischief-making side just waiting to shine; he just needs to get more comfortable with the Winchester family. Sin's a bit of a wild child, too, especially towards the beginning of the story, but she does have hidden responsible side, just waiting to be called forth. **

**And yes, Bobby x Ellen, for the win! I love that pairing. The episode where they were married and Ellen and Jo survived was beautiful and tragic. I figured since this was AU and I already rearranged events and resurrected characters to my liking, why not throw in some of this pairing? (And Jo is alive; too, she's just off hunting.) **

**I originally meant for the story of the mall to be in one chapter. Then I realized that the transition from the prologue to that mini-plot was ridiculously rough, and split it up. The Winchesters vs. The Shopping Mall Adventure should run about two more chapters. **

**PLEASE REVIEW! I LOVE FEEDBACK! **

**See ya next chapter!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 2: How to Get Thrown Out of a Mall in 5 Minutes or Less, PART 2**

**Author's Note: THANK YOU OODLES TO EVERYONE WHO REVIEWED! You've renewed my faith in this fic, and I love the support!**

The mall was an inconspicuous-looking structure. Boxy, gray and rather displeasing to the eye, it sat; a large, windowless, brooding presence perched on a gently sloping hill of concrete parking lot. Dean hated it instantly. "I don't get why we can't just drop them off at Army/Navy. It's what Dad did with us. Coupla dollars, some coupons, they'll be outfitted in no time," the elder Winchester grumbled as he searched the massive parking lot for a spot sufficiently distant from other cars to preserve the proper protective space-bubble around his precious Impala.

"I've been informed that army-surplus wardrobes are worn by 'creepy stalkers'," Sam grumbled.

"Now that's just ridiculous," Dean snorted.

"Captain Plaid!" Sin's voice rang out from the backseat. Dean was ashamed that he reacted to the new nickname. Damn, that was embarrassing.

"What, Feathers?" Two could play at the name-calling game.

"No."

"No what?"

"No army surplus crap. We are _so _not rocking the midget-commando look you've got there."

"I'M NOT SHORT!" Dean insisted.

"Way to focus on the real issue here, Dean," Sam grumbled under his breath.

"Shut up bitch," Dean ordered; glad to be back on familiar territory with at least _someone. _

"Jerk."

Now, Dean had been expecting to hear the customary insult from _one _voice. Sasquatch-Sam had been calling him that since he was five years old and figured out that 'jerk' was something he could call his big brother at school without getting in trouble for 'foul and profane language', whatever that was. However, the elder Winchester was _not _expecting to catch a second voice backing Sam up on the insult.

He examined the kids in the back seat. Timmy was staring at his clasped hands in his lap. He glanced up, his young green eyes briefly connecting with Dean's older, more jaded gaze, before his attention was once more riveted on his fingers. "Timmy?" Dean asked, trying his damndest to sound gentle, "Did you just copy Sam?"

"No. Sorry."

"Come on, man, did you mimic Sammy?" Dean's voice was cajoling, the exact same tone he used to use when he was trying to convince eight-year-old Sammy to eat his Cheerios before school despite the fact that the little boy was demanding a chocolate-cake-breakfast.

"NO. SORRY." Timmy's voice was more insistent. Dean, and he suspected Sam as well, could already feel his blood pressure start to rise as the little guy's stress levels rose.

"Okay, okay, buddy, it's cool," for the first time in his life, Dean Winchester backed down. There was a short pause as everyone regained their emotional equilibrium and Dean pulled into a parking space at least three spaces away from all the other cars on either side. Perfect, no chance of any douchebags scratching his baby.

Dean threw the car into park and swiveled around in his seat to stare at the little boy in the backseat. "Just, you know, if you could read minds, that'd be pretty damn awesome," he grinned at the kid to show he wasn't lying or pretending to be interested like most ass-hat adults.

Timmy looked up, green eyes huge. In the proper lighting they were more hazel than green, the gold flecks especially prominent in the strong noon light. "I can't read minds, sorry." There was a short pause where he chewed his lip and stared at Dean like he was trying to see through his body and into his soul. Who knew with these angel-types, maybe they were. Cas _had _made some pretty weird comments on Dean's soul over the years…

"But sometimes I know what's going to happen right before it does. Like I knew what Sam was going to say and I knew you were going to pick this space. It's harder with unexpected stuff, and I can't predict what some people are going to say before they say it. But sometimes I get whole conversations. Especially when I know the people. It gets worse the better I get to know their souls. But I like you. I can't see you through the haze. Everything you say is a surprise."

Everyone paused for a moment, dumbfounded by the sudden outpouring of words from the little body in the backseat.

Sam, ever the persistent researcher, broke the silence, "What kind of haze?"

Timmy shrugged, apparently out of words. Considering how little he had said up to this point, Dean wouldn't be surprised if the little guy had used up his quota of words for the month.

Luckily, Sin was there to pick up the slack, "The angel-mojo haze. It's pretty distracting, really. All blue and clingy and stuff," she shrugged.

"Okay…" Sam's brow was furrowed, little nerdy was fascinated by all this angel weirdness. "So, you're saying is Dean has this…cloak of angel mojo? Why?"

Sin squinted at Dean, making him squirm under her scrutiny, "Trench-coat dude," she finally concluded. "He dragged your ass outta Hell, right?" she continued before Dean could even begin to contemplate commenting, "Well, now there's an angel-bond between you. You've got just enough angel mojo clinging to you at all times so that Trench-Coat can find you whenever he needs to. Probably some sort of residual psychic connection, too. If it hasn't faded by now it's probably permanent. Did you seriously not know about this?"

"Umm, no?" Dean was feeling a bit creeped out by all this, although he wasn't sure what bothered him, Cas and him having a _psychic bond_ or the fact that this kid apparently could tell all that personal crap about him from one intense stare. These children had some seriously weird angel-human powers.

She shrugged, "Well, the psychic thing's probably been dormant on your end if you haven't been aware of it."

"So, Dean's got an angel hotline?" Sam asked, intrigued.

"Hmm," Sin hummed, "Sort of, it's pretty much just a way to share emotions and impressions angel-to-angel. We're all linked up like that. Well, me and Timmy are part of our own network, although we could tap into Soul-Radio Angel Edition if we really wanted to. It's not like Angel-Radio. It's just a structure built for defense and comfort. Like a sixth sense for your family members. If they're sad, happy, scared, in danger, you can sense it. If an angel's separated from the rest for long enough he or she can form the bond with another soul, although it's pretty rare. Sam's got some backwash too, probably from Dean-association, but not nearly as strong. Congrats, Grumpy-Green-Eyed-Lumberjack, you're a very special human!"

"How do you know this much?" Sam asked, curious.

Sin's brow furrowed and she looked distracted for a few seconds, "I'm not sure…" she murmured, "I just… know. I feel like someone told me a long time ago, but I don't know who…" she looked up at him and glared, "And it's none of your freaking business, Shampoo-Commercial. Yes, I went there, your mane looks like an ad for Tresseme."

"Okay, my head might explode from all this 'profound bond' crap. Let's just get in the mall, get out without getting attacked by anything and go home so I can watch some Dr. Sexy," Dean ordered.

Obediently, everyone piled out of the car and headed for the enormous, brooding building. Timmy surreptitiously slipped his hand into Sin's as they marched toward the sliding glass doors and feverishly glowing signs ahead. They exchanged an intense glance, seemed to agree on something and look away.

"Huh," Sam remarked, "Maybe Cas' staring is him trying to get you to get off your ass and use your psychic bond properly."

"Shut up," Dean grumbled. So maybe what the kid was saying made sense, and maybe, just maybe, he might have thought that maybe he might have caught the tail end of a thought or two coming from his trench-coated angel friend. But that was just ridiculous.

"Does this mean those kids are having secret conversations mind-to-mind?" Sam asked.

"Yes." Sin and Timmy replied.

"Dammit," Dean grumbled, he got the feeling his job got a lot harder. And was that an echo of Cas-like sympathy floating in the back of his mind? Nope, not going to think about that, too confusing. And he liked his brain _not _exploded out of sheer confusion, thank you very much.

He glowered at the two children trotting ahead of him and Sam, "Ground rules, midgets," Dean declared, "Keep the psychic brain-to-brain communication to a minimum, Sammy and I are supposed to be in on all chatting, so no deciding crap on mind-space and skipping the whole run-it-by-your-guardians thing, got it?"

"Got it," they said in unison, just to mess with Dean, he was sure, before scampering through the doors into the wonderland of the mall, Winchesters in tow.

* * *

Sam blamed two entities for the disaster that would become their mall-visit. One: Blathazar the bastard. Two: Becky and her little fangirl posse that happened to be snooping around Hot Topic for Supernatural fan merchandise. As soon as Sam's combat boots made contact with the grimy tiled floor of the mall, Sin had grabbed his arm and begun to drag him, and by extension, Timmy, over to a shop labeled 'Hot Topic'.

"Come, ON! There's a SALE!" she squealed, suddenly becoming much less of a know-it-all angel's daughter and much more of a teenaged girl. However, enthusiasm has its time and place and a mall at noon is not it. They took a corner too sharply, Timmy and Dean trailing behind them and ran smack into a tall-ish, thin, blond-haired man standing inconspicuously off to the side.

"What the bloody-?!" the man snapped in a British accent, attempting to right himself as slightly over a hundred pounds of teenaged girl slammed into his side, nearly sending him toppling over. Sam managed to halt his progress before the inevitable collision, but Timmy and Dean were not so fortunate. Timmy's flying form was the straw that sent the British man toppling over, and Dean was just lucky enough to avoid the wild nest of flailing limbs that the two children and the Brit made on the floor. The only reason Dean was spared this encounter with six elbows and three fury-inflated egos was Sam's speed in grabbing the collar of his brother's jacket and yanking him backwards before the apparently-inevitable fall.

"Oh, bloody- ack! I can't seem to take a decent holiday, can I?" whined the man on the floor, "I've got nephilim all over me! Get off, fledgings, I'm not your mummy!"

"Uncle Blathazar?" Sin popped back up on her feet, "Holy crap! It's you!"

"Uncle Blathazar," Timmy greeted him with solemn affection after being helped to his feet by Sin.

"Blathazar?!" Sam and Dean barked incredulously. Could this day get any weirder?

Blathazar, who was busy fussing with his mussed sports jacket and muttering about his clothes, peered up only to adopt of look of exasperated consternation, "And _Winchesters, _why am I not surprised?" he squinted at Dean, "Bloody good thing you didn't fall on me, mate, have I mentioned before that I really am _not _the angel in the dirty trench coat who's in love with you?"

"What are you doing here?" Dean demanded, ignoring, in true Dean fashion, any allusion to deeper feelings on his part towards any living creature, supernatural or otherwise.

Balthazar snorted, "What do you think? I'm here to look after these two. You didn't think Mikey wouldn't have a backup in place in case Gabe fobbed them off on Cas, who would then pass them off to his favorite humans? Well here I am, plan 'B' for 'Balthazar'. These tykes' temporary heavenly social worker. I'll be popping in every now and then to check up.

"However, right now, I'm hiding from a truly terrifying pack of monsters," he remarked dryly.

"What?" Sam was already on his guard.

"Fangirls," Balthazar informed them with a stricken look on his face, "There's a sale on Supernatural merchandise in both the comic book store and Hot Topic."

They could hear the squealing from where they stood. It filled all three adults with a nameless, primal sort of dread. Dean could feel (okay, yeah, so maybe there was a psychic-link-thing going on there, it _was not weird,_ okay?) Cas shrinking away and withdrawing as much as he could from his human's mind, giving only an awkward sort of psychic pat on the head for comfort.

This was not going to be good.


End file.
